


growing pains

by aiineslin



Category: The Jungle Book - All Media Types
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-17 14:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiineslin/pseuds/aiineslin
Summary: the man cub is slow to age. baloo worries.





	growing pains

The jungle had slow days.

Days when the flies bumble drunkenly through the air, when the hawks hid their heads beneath their wings even though the sun burnt golden in a cloudless blue sky.

The man-cub was still learning how to form his words. His tongue and throat were not made for rumbling growls and rasping chuffs, and his ears were too short to demonstrate his emotions cleanly and clearly – but he was learning, in fits and starts.

To make up for his natural deficiencies, Baloo took it upon himself to tutor the man-cub in the many languages of the jungle (and near everything else). There was much to teach, and much to undo. And while the man-cub possessed the frenetic energy of the young, such energy was whittled away quickly enough in the heat of the jungle. The days are long, after all, and the lessons are taxing on a man-cub’s body.

“Do you think,” Baloo said one day. “That he is growing every slowly?”

They were resting after a lesson in the languages of the Bird People. Mowgli was curled up in the crook of Bagheera’s paws, a small, nut-brown shape. His chest rose and fell as he slept without a care in the world, his little hands – so unlike the Jungle People! (Except for the Monkey People, but let us not speak of them, faugh) – balled into littler fists.

Bagheera lapped at Mowgli’s head, swiping away the beads of sweat tenderly. “That is the curse of their kind, no?”

It was painfully obvious after a short period of observation that Mowgli grew at a much slower rate than his siblings. The first litter of cubs that saw Mowgli arrive were grown and strong by now; they had become nervy teenagers while Mowgli still crawled in all fours in the dirt, cooing garbled, half-formed words at Raksha and Rama. Bless Raksha’s patience, she refused to give up on Mowgli.

“Maybe he is stupid,” Rama had suggested once. He huffed a little, switched his tail. “Soft in the head, like cousin Suresh.”

Raksha had cut him such a withering glare that Rama (or nobody, for that matter) ever made that suggestion in her earshot again.

Baloo fiddled a little, jiggled and rocked on his rump. Bagheera shot him an impatient glance. “Speak your mind or cease that infernal jiggling.” In his paws, Mowgli made a little whine, and instantly, the black panther lowered his volume to an angry hiss, “See, see what you have done!”

For a moment, both eye Mowgli apprehensively – but the moment passed by, and Mowgli continued to slumber.

Baloo twisted his paws into pretzels, and finally, he said, “We will be old before he grows into maturity.”

Bagheera loosed a deep sigh, a rumble of exasperation that rolled up and out from his chest. “Is that what you are worried about, foolish old bear?”

“Yes,” said Baloo with uncommon sharpness. “Who will take care of him when we are gone?” He sat himself down with a heavy thump on a tree stump, scowling ferociously at Bagheera. “The years are heavy on their kind, only Hathi and his family remembers the faces of their fathers and grandfathers.”

Bagheera slanted a glance over, his eyes hard, bright emeralds beneath his dark lashes. And then he sighed quietly, his gaze slip-sliding off Baloo to look into the middle distance. “ _He_ will take care of himself. Do you think he is stupid, Baloo?”

Baloo huffed and puffed, his chest filling with the hot air of indignation. “Absolutely not! I tutor him, I, who taught wise leaders of the tribes - ”

“Exactly,” drawled Bagheera, with great patience and evenness. “You produce great chieftains and wise leaders.”

 The panther looked down at the sleeping man-cub, his eyes twinkling fondly. “If you are able to make a wise wolf out of Akela, whom we all remember had a great love for chasing his own tail well into his youth – you will teach this man-cub self-sufficiency and independence. He will be fine, Baloo. He has a good teacher to guide him into adulthood.”

The brown bear met Bagheera’s words with silence.

For a moment, Bagheera thought Baloo was quite stumped by his words – and so he should, for Bagheera so very rarely gave words of encouragement to the other – but no, it appeared that Baloo was simply gathering up the courage to barrel over and wrap Bagheera’s head into a headlock of a hug, nuzzling his wet nose into Bagheera’s fur.

Baloo possessed some small cunnings; he knew that Bagheera would not move from the position for fear of dislodging the sleeping boy. And so Bagheera bore Baloo’s affections with great dignity, allowing the brown bear to cuddle into his side.

“Happy?” enquired Bagheera with patently false solicitousness when Baloo finally settled into a comfortable position, one heavy paw flung over Bagheera’s back.

“Exceedingly so,” confirmed Baloo, burying his face into Bagheera’s fur.

The black panther huffed softly, turning his gaze to the sky for a moment. The smallest of smiles may have quirked his lips a little.

The insects buzzed, and all was silent in the jungle but for the soft snores of a family at rest.

**Author's Note:**

> bagheera and baloo are the original gay dads  
> the end.


End file.
